When Eyeball returned to the hangar, the ship was virtually unrecognizable. It had gone from a skeletal structure to a solid obsidian mass, the seams of the individual pseudo-neutronium plates barely visible; with the only openings being the exit of the railgun, in the center of the craft, the engines, and of course, a hatch at the bottom for entry. Dozens of technicians were going over the craft, scanning, checking; mostly ensuring that the seams were adhering properly. A nasty gouge in the floor showed where some insignificant mistake had likely led to one of the plates slipping; even the single meter drop from the mounting bracket to the floor enough that it would've killed any non-Titan unlucky enough to be beneath it; and without the dampening field, it would have gone right through the floor.

As he examined the progress, he was surprised to see a familiar four-armed, green-armored figure standing beside the Engineer, the two pointing out functions on a display. Eyeball blinked... and stepped up to the pair. "I thought you'd already headed home, didn't expect to see you again. We've got construction complete, and are going through the final pre-flight checks. We'll be in orbit tomorrow, and then take on a few additional crew. before we head out."

Loki studied the ship for a moment. "..I've been out there, as an adult. A few times. Most recently a century or so ago. But... I'm familiar with a fair amount of the political landscape out there. You seriously think you can do this, after what I told you?"

Eyeball glanced at him for a moment. "This ship is much bigger than it looks from the outside. The main gun on it... could actually hurt even what you described by spitting some neutronium-tipped slugs at a significant fraction of lightspeed. And I've got a team that can slow him down, with two methods to finish him off for good after we briefly stun him with the main gun."

The alien laughed, gesturing at the ship with all four arms. "..Do you know what they use Neutronium for, out there?"

Eyeball shrugged. "No. What?"

"The most advanced FTL drives out there rely on an artificial singularity... that needs Neutronium to create. Neutronium is the rarest, most valuable material in the known universe; one usually only available from neutron stars and collapsing black holes, which themselves require ridiculously advanced tech to interact with. The ones Hephaestus and your own governments cobbled together using Valkyrie's scraps are the most advanced out there; better than what the Jotun have. This... ridiculous lump of patchwork here could be stripped for parts and used to buy a star-cluster of inhabited worlds from the Empire. If you don't paint over this thing, it'll be like driving a car made of diamonds and platinum through a ghetto."

Eyeball blinked; and looked over the ship again. The hull looked black; but it had a very subtle glow to it. Stealth would be impossible for this thing. "Huh. Will we have concerns, combat-wise? I wasn't sure how dangerous Imperial ships would be, but figured they'd be a bit worse than the Jotun, best be as prepped as possible."

Loki made his familiar gestures; forming another image in midair. A set of vaguely squid-shaped structures appeared; orb-like bodies with rounded projectiles pointed forward. "The Jotun are a bit of an outlier. Or whatever they call themselves now, I suppose the only ones that are called Jotun still are any survivors here on earth. Most species use shields of some sort. Energized barriers between them and the enemy. Which... are practically eggshells compared to Jotun armor. The only advantage one of these ships has in a fight.."

One of the squid-shaped things suddenly swelled in size, obscuring the others. "Is that it can take millions of blows over time without damage so long as they aren't too serious. A blow that would barely scratch Jotun armor would cause a drop in shield power... and the shield would restore itself for the next blow. A blow that would indent a Jotun bulkhead... would turn one of these things into a splatter. Any gun that works on the Jotun will work triple on the Imperials. The real threat there is the Emperor himself. With him around... they don't need to be too dangerous. Just to hold on until the boss shows up."

Loki sighed. "The last time someone tried to kill him, they literally hit him with an artificial black hole. It wounded him... briefly. And he just kept on fighting. It's generally assumed he can't be killed. But... you've done the impossible before. So. I'll give you all the info I have from my past journeys. And advise you to not just spray over that hull, but collect some neutronium scraps to sell; a piece the size of a fingernail would buy you a warship."

"What about a neutronium bottle filled with anti-matter?"

"...Why would you make a neutronium bottle full of anti-matter?"

"Ammunition. Its what most of the scraps of Butch's work on the hull plates was turned into."

Loki stared at the ship for a moment; the tip of the railgun that seemed as if it should be worthless; the vessel appeared less than fifty meters long. "......This is bullshit. I flew around in a stolen Imperial cargo ship the last time I went on space-adventures, and you get some ridiculous mega-frigate loaded with a hundred impossible things."

Eyeball chuckled. "Want to come along? I've got space. And I suspect the ship will outlive me, so you can try to take over as captain later."

He blinked. "Why would I try to take over as captain?"

"...The stories about you? God of mischeif and trickery? Deceit and theft and all sorts of nonsense?"

Loki sighed. "Most of the stories are nonsense. I am a trickster. Illusionist. Shapeshifter. And my species are hermaphroditic, so I don't really qualify as male or female, and yes, I have both fathered and given birth to a few children over the years. But. Odin is my father. Earth is my home. Unless you plan on turning that ridiculous main gun on earth herself, I don't really have much cause to try to take it from you."

Eyeball nodded for a moment. "Huh. So you can have kids with humans? Thats... weird."

"Technically, my kids are my own species, but their... default... shape is something I helped them establish as toddlers. I could explain, but I don't think its really important to this matter; since I'm not going with you. How long until you leave?"

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Eyeball glanced at the ship for a moment. "About... twelve hours. The cattle are being delivered in six. Everything should be loaded, packed, and ready, and as soon as we finish the final."

"..You're bringing cattle on the ship?"

"Oh, no. They're a sacrifice. I've got a whole ritual prepared, we're going to be enchanting the ship just before it takes off. Should be interesting to see what it does."

***

Captain Antoine Moreau, formerly of the French navy, then captain of the Temeraire, stared out the viewscreen at... a literal tide of blood spilling down across his monitor. While they were still in the dock, he could even see an external view of his new command; and that its owner, and, in theory, his commanding officer in the La Famiglia armed forces, was currently making strange gestures and chanting a bunch of nonsense while pouring a horrific mess of blood and organs over the ship.

He was fully aware that magic was real; he'd even been told that some of the superstitions of the navy, and the dedication and loyalty its sailors had to their ships, the blood, sweat, and tears they poured into them, had a real, measurable impact on performance, and having proper sorcerers working on it would serve to increase what was there.

But seeing a ritual in progress, even knowing it was a herd of cattle being slain and their blood channeled in rather than humans... it was still a bit disturbing.

His first impression of the ship had been... joy. The French had been one of the many participants in Hephaestus's efforts to get humanity out of the star system, but there were so few starships he'd failed to make the cut; only now, with France herself fallen, his history as both the commander of a submarine at war with the Jotun, as well as someone who had made it fairly distant into the CNS's trials, had led him here... to the captain of the 'Dragonslayer Expeditionary Force'.

The ship herself appeared less than fifty meters long on the outside; but the diagram showed two entirely seperate sections; a Railgun Engineering deck approximately two kilometers long, which was just a reactor, the pathway and magnets of the railgun itself, and an engineering space to hold the loading mechanism. If the extradimensional space somehow failed, it was designed to be a moderately-armored path extending out past what was currently the rear of the ship.

And of course, the crew deck was similar. About a kilometer long, containing far more space than the sixty-man crew, twenty-man strike team, or the thousands of drones required, each man had his own quarters, and the food, water, and air were sufficient for a century of travel should the recycling systems fail.

The 'Expeditionary Force' title was absurd. In reality, the only other vessels were a pair of gunships the craft carried, a handful of fighters, and numerous attack drones; there would be no other vessels joining them. On the other hand, he doubted it would need much backup. While this ship wouldn't have stopped the Jotun invasion force, it would have given a vast and terrible accounting of itself; the sheer firepower and durability of the vessel was unmatched by anything they were aware of; not even the Dreadnaught currently serving as the primary military might of the Diamond Kingdom could compare.

He grimaced as a trailing of cattle intestines became stuck against one of the cameras, blotting out the view from inside the ship, and switched that section to another external camera.

The runes that had been painted on the outer hull had begun to glow, as the blood flowed over them; visible through the mass of liquid, somehow; and rather than spilling down to the ground, the mass was disturbingly flowing along the surface now; the pool beneath it no longer growing larger.

Finally, after the flow from above dropped to a trickle, and then ceased, the entire ship was encased in the horrible, bloody mass. There was a brilliant flash of light; and suddenly the ship appeared to be formed of... rusty iron. A dull orange shade that looked nothing like the sleek, black, softly glowing hull she'd borne before.

He could see Eyeball approaching the ship now; stopping to shake the hand of a golden, glowing, angelic figure whose arms were covered in blood; seemingly unconcerned about the blood on himself. "Lower the ramp and make sure the artificial gravity is stable throughout the ship. We'll be launching shortly."

As Captain Moreau stalked down to the launch bay; briefly admiring the forms of the sleek fighter-craft, the bulbous, deadly forms of the gunships bristling with both earth and Jotun weaponry, he looked down the ramp at the approaching figure; and extended a hand.

"Welcome aboard, sir. We're prepared to launch at your command. I believe we're scheduled to do so in ten minutes?"

Eyeball chuckled. "Cutting it a bit close, aren't we? My fault, that. Still. Whatever protection the magic can offer will be worth it; and seeming to be made out of cheap iron will likely make things easier. Everyone aboard who is supposed to be?"

"Of course. The Titan was the last to arrive, and our new chief engineer and his assistant gave final launch approval over an hour ago. This... ritual of yours is the only thing we were waiting for."

Eyeball nodded. "Excellent. And one last thing before we launch. This ship deserves its own name, not just to be Dragonslayer II; especially as I may well take the Dragonslayer out while we're out there. Given our mission, I figured we could call it the Pequod? Penelope wanted to call it the Strauss, but that seemed a poor choice, even if its entire purpose is to perform a targeted killing."

Moreau blinked. "That... either would be an ill-fated choice, even if possibly appropriate. Might I recommend something a bit more optimistic? Perhaps... Tyrannicide? Kingslayer?"

"Bah. My uncle would have called it the John Wilkes Booth, but that would be both terrible and equally unlucky. You're the captain, this is her maiden voyage. "

"...During her final minutes on the ground, the ship was blessed by an angel, wasn't she?" The captain smiled. "The final Jeanne D'Arc of the french navy fell in orbit fighting the Jotun. At the time she was lost, the crew who were dropped to land across south america would become a large portion of the surviving frenchmen. There might never be a france again, and may never be a french navy to carry the colors."

Eyeball glanced at the view-screen. Gabriel was nowhere to be seen, having moved on to his own affairs; possibly literally, considering the powerful, angelic figure was popular with the women of La Famiglia. "That can work. Dark for short?"

"..Well, they called her Jeanne for short, but she's your ship."

Eyeball chuckled; and tapped his helmet. "This is Eyeball speaking to all crew. We're launching in... five minutes. Right now, we're updating the ship's registry; her official name is now Jeanne D'Arc, under captain Antoine Moreau. Engineering, if you wouldn't mind detailing a drone to handle the colors and the name once we hit FTL. The moment we're off the ground, Captain Moreau is in charge. If he says jump, you jump. The only one who can countermand him is myself; and frankly I don't anticipate doing much of that, as the man has years of experience commanding a submarine, as well as numerous studies on space combat and tactics. My powers may not be perfect, but they guided me down a chain of events that led to the salvation of the earth from the Jotun; and they guided me to choose him as captain."

He turned to look at Moreau. A green light was blinking on the bridge; a count-down appeared. Ten. Nine. He settled into a chair, strapping himself in, as the captain did the same; each of the men at their stations adjusting their own positions; their uniforms built much like Eyeball's own, to serve as sleek body-armor; in subtle dark blue with silver trim for most; and with the addition of a helmet, a spacesuit.

As the timer reached one, the ship lifted off of the floor; and surged out into the sky, almost seamlessly; the reactors could be felt humming through the hull. As she hurtled into the atmosphere, the sky rapidly turned from blue to purple to black; and Eyeball tapped the display beside his own chair, watching the earth recede behind them.

He was fairly certain it was the last time he'd ever see that.